


Sit Within Your Picture

by meinterrupted



Category: Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
Genre: F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:42:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinterrupted/pseuds/meinterrupted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Notes:</b> I have a longer, epic-length story in this fandom bouncing around in my head. But until I can do some research into Edwardian & WWI-era England, this is my only offering. Feedback is adored.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sit Within Your Picture

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** I have a longer, epic-length story in this fandom bouncing around in my head. But until I can do some research into Edwardian  & WWI-era England, this is my only offering. Feedback is adored.

_And when you think you've sinned  
Do you fall upon your knees?  
Or d'you sit within your picture?  
Do you still forget the breeze?_  
\- "Elephant," Damien Rice

The first time, it was an accident.

Mary had been walking through the nearly deserted gardens one hot summer day, and, drawn by sounds she couldn't identify, she nearly stumbled over the naked pair. Instinctively, she stayed hidden, drinking in the sight of Dickon's muscles rippling under his tanned skin and the way the sun turn his rust-red hair into a halo of gold and the sweat on his body to glistening diamonds. She spared little thought for the naked maid lying under him on the grass carpet; her eyes were only for Dickon's strong frame. A strange, throbbing sensation began between her legs, spreading rapidly to encompass her whole body. Moving, even slightly, caused her hardened nipples to rub up against the soft fabric of her undergarments in a way that intensified the ache between her legs.

His groan as he spent himself had made her knees weak. She wrapped her arms around the tree she was hiding behind to keep from falling, and swallowed hard. She could hear him saying something to the girl, soft, sweet nothings in his gorgeous Yorkshire accent, but she knew she couldn't stay to eavesdrop. As soon as Mary was sure her legs wouldn't betray her, she ran, stumbling over her own unsteady feet, until she reached the secret garden, slamming the door behind her. She crumpled to the ground, breathing hard, her skirts crumpled up near her waist. The throbbing between her legs hadn't gone away, and she reached into her underthings, fingers seeking the source. Little jolts of pleasure surged through her each time she touched a certain place, and after a few minutes of exploration, it felt as if a million static shocks zipped through her body. Mary cried out in surprise and pleasure, her heart racing and sweat plastering her blonde hair to her forehead.

The second time, it wasn't an accident, not really. She'd heard the tell-tale sounds, whimpers and moans, the slap of flesh on flesh, and she crept stealthily to a hidden vantage point. The girl was on top of Dickon this time, her legs straddling his hips, bare breasts bouncing. His strong hands held her hips, fingers digging deep into her flesh as she bobbed up and down. Leaning against a small oak, Mary's hands slid down her body of their own accord, the heat of her fingers barely concealed by her thin summer dress. She watched until he finished, a wordless moan escaping his lips as his fingers dug even deeper into the girl's hips. She walked away quickly, sweat beading on her forehead from the sensations and heat, and within moments she was crying out her own pleasure within the locked garden.

After that, it became almost like a game. She knew Dickon suspected something was different; the day after, she could never quite meet his eyes as they worked side-by-side in the garden. Even Colin began to sense the tension, frowning whenever Mary would excuse herself from the garden without a clear reason.

She knew it was only a matter of time before she was discovered. Dickon was far too observant, and as time passed, she grew less and less cautious. She started touching herself while she watched, imagining Dickon's larger, rougher hands in place of her own, teasing herself to a climax while he did the same to the girl.

She knew the exact moment she was caught. He was standing up, his pants unbuttoned and down around his knees, leaning against one of the walls that sectioned off the estate. The woman was kneeling in front of him, her dark head bobbing up and down while he buried his fingers in her hair. Mary licked her lips, unaware her bright red dress made her stand out against the greenery she was hiding behind. She pinched her hard nipple through her dress, crying out softly. Dickon's eyes flew open, their blue gaze finding her immediately. She froze.

Neither moved. The only sound in the garden was the rush of blood through her ears, like the ocean against the beach. Mary knew her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were as wide as saucers. Finally, after a second that stretched into eternity, Dickon leaned his head back against the wall and gave her a lazy smile, his wide mouth saying so much without saying a word. She let out a slow, shuddering breath and smiled back. She kept one hand on her nipple, using her other to hike her skirt up to her waist. Dickon's eyes raked over her body, his gaze almost palpable as she touched herself through her undergarments, then under them. He licked his lips as she whimpered softly, biting her finger to keep from crying out as she brought herself to the edge. It was if that was what he needed, and she saw him throw his head back and shudder one last time.

She was gone before he opened his eyes.

She was pruning the roses when he found her. "So, Miss Mary, how long has thee been spyin' on me an' Lilly?" His voice sent a chill through her, her fingers stilling mid-cut. She suddenly felt as if she couldn't get enough air, and turned slowly. That lazy, satisfied smile was hovering around his wide mouth, and his dark blue eyes were sparkling. He leaned against the wall, every line of his body proclaiming his utter confidence.

A flush that she was certain had nothing to do with the summer heat rose in her face. She licked her lips and brushed an errant lock of hair back behind her ear. "I don't know what you're talking about." She knew she was blinking too fast, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips a little too quickly.

His stride was positively cat-like as he stalked across the garden toward her. Each step was leisurely but deliberate, not a single wasted motion. Like a mouse cornered by the family terrier, she frantically searched for an escape route only to realize she was in to corner farthest from the closed door. "Aye, Mary, I believe tha' does." Sooner than she imagined, he was kneeling beside her. She swallowed hard, her heart racing inside her chest when he reached up to lightly trace her jaw with one calloused finger. "Tell me, how long?"

His pupils were so dilated the blue was nearly swallowed up by black. She couldn't tear her eyes away and she couldn't help herself. "Weeks. Since just after I returned from school." The roughness of his finger as it slid across her skin made heat rush between her legs, and she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

Dickon laughed then, a soft, throaty sound that vibrated deep within her. "Tha' long? Eh, Mary, would tha' I'd have known." He leaned down, his face brushing against hers. The warmth of his skin mixed with the heat of the day, causing her eyelids to flutter closed. His breath skimmed across her neck as he whispered, "I would have been wrestlin' wit' thee instead o' Lilly."

Before she could react, he was gone, and the only sounds in the garden were the hum of insects and the song of the Robin.


End file.
